It is. Thank you for your message, Miss Organa - it'll be mighty handy to have someone else helpin' out.
[Arthur hasn't sounded brisk or professional in his life, and he doesn't look it, either. But he's been doing this job since the Admiral made them all get jobs, and he's more than glad to have help again.]
[ She hadn't been sure what kind of reception she'd receive, so she'd put on her senatorial demeanor. But this makes her release her poise and give a wry look back. ]
I've already been told it's something of a free-for-all. I admit some relief at having someone more experienced to help orient me.
[ Well, maybe she hadn't totally put aside her senatorial demeanor. ]
My way of lookin' at it, they wanna do something to keep them busy, I'll welcome 'em. But I'm not gonna make 'em scrub floors if they don't feel like it. It's not that kinda prison.
Yes, I don't want to be their literal prison warden. Tiffany suggested I find out if those who don't show for their shifts are otherwise occupied. I'm chiefly concerned that someone might be falling through the cracks somewhere.
[ Leia shows up promptly, and by now she's discovered the additional clothes in her cabin closet, meaning she's changed out of her princess-goes-to-do-politics outfit. Instead she's in a practical shirt with pilot's leggings and high boots, and an empty holster at her hip where her blaster would normally reside.
She takes the invitation for caf literally, and is figuring out how to serve herself with some mild consternation for devices that seem centuries out of date when Arthur arrives. ]
Arthur walks in a little more slowly; he tends to amble everywhere when he's not on the run from something. He's wearing scuffed jeans, his hat, a dark shirt, a vest, riding boots. For all accounts, if she knew of them, a cowboy.
He spots her at the canisters they keep the coffee in. Coincidentally, slightly ahead of his own time. "Here," he says, gruffly. "Let me. You take anything in it?"
"Just black," she sighs, moving out of the way but peering over Arthur's shoulder to watch what he does. "Got out of the habit of adding anything over the past few years. Thanks."
Leia does not, in fact, know what a cowboy is in terms of the cultural concept. The closest thing she knows is rancher, and to her eye, she thinks Arthur looks like a rural freighter pilot. Which is not a bad association; half the Alliance's fighter pilots started out that way.
Leia accepts the mug gratefully, though even the mug itself is unfamiliar. She answers with the wry, mild frustration of someone who's used to being self-sufficient and capable.
"It all just seems like antiques. Space travel is thousands of years in our past; I've never seen something like this outside of a museum."
Bodhi had told her that there were people here all from the same planet's pre-flight era, and that some of them were very pre-flight, but it's somehow still a surprise to run into it.
Leia can't help but be a little interested as she follows Arthur to the table and takes a seat. "What's that been like? At least I've lived on a spaceship before."
"A good chunk of it. Didn't have a job at first, but the Admiral made it pretty clear we all had to make ourselves useful. So I guess I took it upon myself to take the most thankless job of all."
He's smiling, but also not truly joking.
"Half the inmates come here after dying and don't feel like suddenly cleaning toilets and mopping floors. Can't blame 'em, but it'll be good to have someone else to try and reel those in."
Leia hadn't heard yet that this wasn't always a provision of the Admiral's that everyone had to have jobs, but it seems secondary to learning all she can about her own newly acquired position.
"How much reeling in do you actually do?" Leia asks frankly, no stranger to thankless tasks. "I was under the impression that all the Inmates are assigned to custodial if they don't pick something else, and that trying to force them into it wasn't going to work."
"Your impression is correct, but a couple conversations can work wonders."
He takes a sip and slumps in his chair a little, crossing his feet at the ankles. "Pagan only shows up to do anything because he likes talking to me, but that gives him a couple times a week where he can't go around makin' trouble. And there's others who might hide away, but hidin' away and not talking to anyone tends to make people disappear."
She's gratified to see her partner on this job immediately pinpoints Leia's very concern.
"That's what I'm worried about," Leia admits. "If they're not showing up because they have other things to do, fine, but I don't want anyone to fall through the cracks on my watch. I signed up to do this because I have experience organizing large groups of people -- but I don't know how helpful that will be."
It's a very different circumstance here than with the Alliance, or before that on Alderaan. No one here necessarily respects her.
Leia's used to being famous or infamous depending on who she's talking to, so it's still new to her to have to explain her background -- her name isn't enough, here.
She sips her caf before replying, deciding how to sum it up as simply as possible. "I help organize a revolution, and I'm a princess." Though whether anyone here understands what that means, Leia's come to doubt.
He has never met a princess. He's met debutantes, but not
princesses, and Leia doesn't even look like the former. His eyebrows
draw up. "A real princess, huh?"
"You'd be sorely mistaken, we had a ball just last year," he says, with a
little grin at her. "Don't worry, the wardrobe's probably got something
appropriately princess-like."
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momijizukamori
video
It is. Thank you for your message, Miss Organa - it'll be mighty handy to have someone else helpin' out.
[Arthur hasn't sounded brisk or professional in his life, and he doesn't look it, either. But he's been doing this job since the Admiral made them all get jobs, and he's more than glad to have help again.]
video
I've already been told it's something of a free-for-all. I admit some relief at having someone more experienced to help orient me.
[ Well, maybe she hadn't totally put aside her senatorial demeanor. ]
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My way of lookin' at it, they wanna do something to keep them busy, I'll welcome 'em. But I'm not gonna make 'em scrub floors if they don't feel like it. It's not that kinda prison.
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I keep an eye on some of 'em, but perhaps a woman's insight on some might be good. [Sorry for the old-timey dude.]
How 'bout I get you a cuppa coffee, we can talk about it. Be good to meet.
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I'd like that. I don't know how much womanly insight I have to offer, but I'd like to help. Where should we meet?
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Let's just do the dining hall. Show you to the supply closet after that, huh?
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[ Leia shows up promptly, and by now she's discovered the additional clothes in her cabin closet, meaning she's changed out of her princess-goes-to-do-politics outfit. Instead she's in a practical shirt with pilot's leggings and high boots, and an empty holster at her hip where her blaster would normally reside.
She takes the invitation for caf literally, and is figuring out how to serve herself with some mild consternation for devices that seem centuries out of date when Arthur arrives. ]
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Arthur walks in a little more slowly; he tends to amble everywhere when he's not on the run from something. He's wearing scuffed jeans, his hat, a dark shirt, a vest, riding boots. For all accounts, if she knew of them, a cowboy.
He spots her at the canisters they keep the coffee in. Coincidentally, slightly ahead of his own time. "Here," he says, gruffly. "Let me. You take anything in it?"
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Leia does not, in fact, know what a cowboy is in terms of the cultural concept. The closest thing she knows is rancher, and to her eye, she thinks Arthur looks like a rural freighter pilot. Which is not a bad association; half the Alliance's fighter pilots started out that way.
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"You're welcome," he says, handing her a cup before getting his own. "Lotta unfamiliar things out here?"
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"It all just seems like antiques. Space travel is thousands of years in our past; I've never seen something like this outside of a museum."
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He snorts and shakes his head before going over to the nearest table.
"Then I must be something of a dinosaur to you. All of this is way ahead of me."
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Leia can't help but be a little interested as she follows Arthur to the table and takes a seat. "What's that been like? At least I've lived on a spaceship before."
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"I been here over a year by now, so I got used to it. But it was damn confusing at first."
He sits down and sips his coffee. He doesn't mind talking about this, because he knows he's a little backwards compared to almost everyone else here.
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Leia leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other at the knee, by all appearances entirely at ease.
"Have you been the custodial supervisor all that time?"
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"A good chunk of it. Didn't have a job at first, but the Admiral made it pretty clear we all had to make ourselves useful. So I guess I took it upon myself to take the most thankless job of all."
He's smiling, but also not truly joking.
"Half the inmates come here after dying and don't feel like suddenly cleaning toilets and mopping floors. Can't blame 'em, but it'll be good to have someone else to try and reel those in."
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"How much reeling in do you actually do?" Leia asks frankly, no stranger to thankless tasks. "I was under the impression that all the Inmates are assigned to custodial if they don't pick something else, and that trying to force them into it wasn't going to work."
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"Your impression is correct, but a couple conversations can work wonders."
He takes a sip and slumps in his chair a little, crossing his feet at the ankles. "Pagan only shows up to do anything because he likes talking to me, but that gives him a couple times a week where he can't go around makin' trouble. And there's others who might hide away, but hidin' away and not talking to anyone tends to make people disappear."
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"That's what I'm worried about," Leia admits. "If they're not showing up because they have other things to do, fine, but I don't want anyone to fall through the cracks on my watch. I signed up to do this because I have experience organizing large groups of people -- but I don't know how helpful that will be."
It's a very different circumstance here than with the Alliance, or before that on Alderaan. No one here necessarily respects her.
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"Well, I surely don't have that kinda experience, so who knows. What do you do back home that's gotten you that experience?"
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She sips her caf before replying, deciding how to sum it up as simply as possible. "I help organize a revolution, and I'm a princess." Though whether anyone here understands what that means, Leia's come to doubt.
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"You don't say?"
He has never met a princess. He's met debutantes, but not princesses, and Leia doesn't even look like the former. His eyebrows draw up. "A real princess, huh?"
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"Sorry, I left my royal dress in my cabin." This is actually true. "I didn't think I'd need to attend any formal functions."
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"You'd be sorely mistaken, we had a ball just last year," he says, with a little grin at her. "Don't worry, the wardrobe's probably got something appropriately princess-like."
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